XXXIThe gathering at the living-room table seemed to Ase like a flock of crows ringed around a mass of carrion. He considered the reading of Amelia’s will a family matter, but Nellie had insisted that not only Judge Simmons but Dr. Holder must be present. Nat drummed his fingers on the table. Arent shifted in his chair, watching his brother for cues. Ase brought his mother’s tin box from her room. They had been unable to find the key and the Judge prized open the lock. A thick sheaf of bank notes lay on top.
Nat said, “Ah-hah.”
The Judge laid the bills aside with a slow dignity. The next layer was of material concerned with Benjamin, his grade school and academy diplomas, the few letters he had written his mother from his periodic absences in his youth, the illiterate scrawl brought by t
